The man and the Boy
by Mephisto Waltz
Summary: A ficlet exploring the platonic relationship between Pilot 03 and Trowa Barton. For the GW500 community.


Title: The Man and the Boy

Author: Mephisto Waltz

Pairing: T.B(real)+3 (Friendship)  
Rating:  PG-13 (Language)  
Warnings: E.W. Spoilers, Language, character death.

Note: For the G.W.500 Challenge. It's a little long. ^_^;

            A man and a boy sat in a bar.

            Of course, there were other men and boys in the bar as well, but only these  two really matter in the world of this story and others like it. The younger, who was both infinitely serene and wise, stared at a photograph while the elder (a man who'd most certainly been a dog in his previous life) shifted irritably in his seat.

            "Where the hell's my beer?" The question *was* for the boy, though the man's shifting focus suggested otherwise. "Doesn't she know who I am?"

            "Our waitress went off shift. Perhaps you should educate the new one when she gets here," said the boy, still staring at the photograph, "it's possible she doesn't know." 

            "Don't be stupid- of course she knows," the man snarled, pulling a cigarette from the breast pocket of his jacket. 

            "Then why did you ask?"

            "It was a rhetorical question, smart ass."  He whipped his empty carton at the boy who dodged it easily. His need for attention momentarily satisfied, the man played with his menu. When after three minutes the beverages had not yet arrived, the man spoke again to hear his own voice. "Are you still looking at that photograph?" He sounded exasperated, but it was simply pretentiousness.

            "Apparently," was the calm response.

            "Well, give it here! It's mine, y'know?" The man held out his hand, and the boy surrendered the photo with a shrug. "You're gonna smudge it up with oil 'n shit," the elder continued, inspecting the photo for any such marks. He paused to stare at the two people in the shot, and indulged in a moment of familial pride. "Once all this is over, she's gonna rule Earth and the colonies will finally be liberated from the Alliance tyranny. The dawn of a new era, kid." The photo was lovingly placed in the man's wallet.

            "Here comes the waitress," was the only response his companion gave.

            "Finally. Dumb bitch."

            "Are you going to inform her? Will you tell her your name?" The boy finally  raised his lowered eyes to the man's face, "You probably should. . ."

            "Why do you care?" the elder asked, chuckling. His companion ignored the question to answer another, much simpler question.

            "I'll have another coffee, please," he murmured and offered his mug to the fresh-faced waitress. She gave him a pointed look.

            "Sweetheart, I think you're a little young for coffee and definitely too young to be in here," 

            "Listen lady," the man spoke up, "he goes where I go, and  I'm getting trashed here tonight, so just lay off."

            "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't allow minors in this establishment. . ."

            " 'Minor'?  What the hell? He's just a snivelling little no-name! If I want him here, then he's going to damn well stay here!" The man rose to his feet, protected by his arrogance.  

            For the first time that night, the boy was interested in something other than his own thoughts

            "You DO know that I'm Trowa Barton of the Barton Foundation, don't you? And you do know that my family owns this two-bit pub and everything else on this colony, right? That being said, I think it's perfectly fine for my designated driver to sit here while I have a beer, wouldn't you agree?"

            "I. . .I. . ." Flushed with embarrassment, the girl looked around the room for assistance.             

            "Coffee?" asked the boy, offering her his mug for a second time. She welcomed the distraction and focused all her available energy on pouring his beverage. "Thank you," he murmured kindly. Lifting the beer from her tray, he passed it to his companion, who grunted, thus excusing the poor girl.

            "Why'd you want me to do that?" The man asked after downing his drink.

            "The same reason as every other time."

            "Kid, I still don't know!"

            The ancient-eyed boy stared hard at his friend and asked, "Do you like your name?"

            In return, the man clenched his fist and turned away in a sudden fit of emotion.  "You know I hate it," he hissed, detesting every truthful word he spoke.

            "Why?"

            "Because it controls me-it's all that I am. I'm nothing but my name."

            And the boy was not smug, though he was empowered by the fact. Instead, he responded with an appropriate "Yes, but that makes you everything that I can never be."   

            By the end of the night, the man was so inebriated the boy had to physically carry him out to the car. Nothing more was said that night, thus nothing more was ever exchanged between the two, for the man died the next morning.

_Author's note: I'm not dead. I will be updating my W.I.Ps as soon as I'm able. I'm working on them, really I am. . .In the meantime, visit my website- I revamped it and it has many pretty and naughty things on it._


End file.
